


Bloom

by lovi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Classical Music, Dorks in Love, Gay John Laurens, LGBTQ Character, Manhattan, Multi, New York City, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 05:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11479218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovi/pseuds/lovi
Summary: Alexander Hamilton, 19 years old and straight off the boat from Nevis, a small island in the Caribbean, has somehow managed to get into one of the finest orchestras in the world, the New York Philharmonic, as First Violin. His world turns to color when he meets John Laurens, a clarinetist, and everything begins to bloom.





	1. Op. 1, No. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to school for music, so I know my shit. But I also can only play piano. So let me know if I fuck up anything about the other instruments, and I'll change it. The Orchestra AU is underappreciated and fucking adorable.

Alexander Hamilton stepped into the Music Hall, taking in a deep breath. This was it. This was what he had been working towards for years, what every musician in Manhattan dreamed of. He was finally designated a seat in the New York Philharmonic and his heart could barely contain itself as he swung open the doors to the auditorium, clutching his violin case and his lunch in his other hand.

The shift in air pressure between the two rooms pushed a gust of artificial wind through his hair as he walked into the auditorium, seeing the other musicians up onstage. Of course, he was late. He hurriedly threw tossed his lunch onto a nearby chair, rushing up to the stage.

“Speak of the devil, our new first violin has finally arrived! Great first impression, care to introduce yourself?” The conductor, the renowned George Washington, stood at his podium, gesturing towards Alexander with a slight roll of the eyes. Alexander gulped and waved as he took his seat, quickly standing back up after remembering his introduction.

“Alexander Hamilton, first violin. Damnit, you already know that!” He rubbed his face with his hand as he racked his brain for basic information.

“Language, Hamilton.”

“My apologies, Sir. I’m from Nevis, in the Caribbean. I’m 19. Hi.” He plopped down into his seat, immediately taking a long swig from his water bottle.

“Okay then, now that everyone’s here, we can begin with the basics.” Washington stepped forward, leaning on his music stand.

“I’ve found that, during concert season, everyone tends to stick to the people in their section. The clarinets talk to the clarinets, the oboes chat with the oboes, but I never see a timpani hitting up the pianist. So, I’m facilitating a sort of “get-to-know-you” activity. The goal is for you to challenge the whole phenomenon I just explained, so try to meet someone out of arm’s reach. Time starts now.”

Everyone hesitantly got up from their seats and began to search for someone to talk to. Alexander stood back up, walking towards the woodwind section. It was then that he bumped into someone.

“Ah, sorry!” He looked up at the small exclamation, locking eyes with a man slightly taller than him. His curly chestnut hair was pulled back into a poofy ponytail, and his tanned skin was dotted with small freckles that resembled the constellations. Alexander immediately began to blush, scratching at the back of his neck. Damn, he was cute.

“It’s cool! Totally cool. It happens” Alexander laughed. “So, uh, wanna chat?”

“Um, y-yeah! Sounds good.” The other man nodded. “Just follow me and we can sit down in my section.” Alexander followed him over to the woodwinds, sitting down next to him and sticking out his hand.

“Alexander Hamilton, first violin.” The other man chuckled.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. John Laurens, clarinet.” He gestured to a small case that sat on the ground up against his chair. “She gives a mean ‘toot’, ya’ know?”

Alexander laughed, beginning to relax. “Yeah, it’s the ‘toot’ that always gets them.”

“So, where did you say you were from again? Jamaica?”

“No, Nevis. It’s further south.” He sighed. “Warmer, higher humidity, stormier; all that good stuff. And you?”

“South Carolina, just outside of Charleston. Replace the ‘stormier’ part of your background with ‘blistering sunlight’ and I don’t need to say another word.” John rolled his eyes. “I’m 22. You’re 19. I remember that part.” He smiled, flashing pearly white teeth that were perfectly in line. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat.

“Uh, yeah, ahaha…” He nervously laughed, running a hand through his hair. “So, what else do you—“

“Okay everybody, time is up, head back to your seats. The clock is ticking, and we do have to actually play music if we want to call this a rehearsal.” Washington tapped his podium with his baton, returning from who appeared to be the pianist. Alexander looked over at John, who shrugged and patted him on the shoulder.

“Well, I guess that’s it for now. You can just ask me later. Actually—“ He reached into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone and opening his contacts. “Quick, type in your number, before Washington sees.” Alexander tried not to smile at the thought of having his number in the cute boy’s phone and quickly typed in his digits, passing the phone back once he was finished.

“Nice meeting you, John. Talk to you later?” He stood up, brushing off his pants to smooth them down.

“Yeah, of course! See ya’ later.”

Alexander, smiling, briskly made his way through the crowd of musicians, sitting back in his seat and taking another swig of water from his water bottle. Washington straightened his back, scanning the orchestra for anyone still settling down.

“Okay, here we are. Hello, New York Philharmonic, my name is George Washington, you can call me Washington, or George, whatever you think suits me best. Our first two performances this season consist of two concertos, Mendelssohn’s Violin in E minor and Elgar’s Cello. The soloists have already been predetermined and personally contacted, so will those two please stand?” Alexander stumbled to his feet, anxiously waving to the crowd of people. Washington gestured towards him with an open and sarcastic hand.

“Alexander Hamilton again, who is apparently stealing the spotlight this afternoon.” Alexander grinned—he loved the spotlight. It was his favourite kind of light. He glanced over to John, who shot him back a thumbs-up and a priceless grin.

“And our other soloist, Aaron Burr, who will be featured in Elgar’s Cello Concerto.” Washington pointed to a man on the opposite side of the stage who was standing with poise and posture, softly smiling and sitting back down as soon as he could. He had a shaved head with little hair and was adorning a grey turtleneck.

“So, it’s best that we get started now. Today we’ll be practicing Mendelssohn, since that’s what’s coming up first. As always, you’re expected to know your music before coming to rehearsal, but I think that’s a given. How about we start with a basic run-through, and I’ll stop at any problem spots. Does that sound good?” Washington quickly scanned the crowd, not really expecting a response. “That’s what I thought. Okay, I’ll count you in a measure before. 1, 2, 3, 4…”

 

* * * * *

 

“Phew! That was rough!” Alexander sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump over, taking a large drink from his water bottle. It was finally time for a lunch break, and he was sitting with John in the hallway and chatting over food.

“I’m not arguing with that. I can’t even imagine being a soloist for that first movement. It’s so much work!” John said between bites of his sandwich.

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

“Hey, care if we sit next to you?”

Both Alex and John looked up at the new voice, a French accent. There were two men standing above them, one with a curly ponytail and another with a grey beanie. 

“No, of course not! Be my guest.” Alexander replied, swinging his arm out to gesture to the extra space on the ledge they were sitting on. The two men sat down, starting to open their lunches.

“I’m Hercules Mulligan, I play trombone, I’m pretty awesome.” Hercules stuck out his hand, and both John and Alex shook it. He had a really firm and brash grip, practically shaking their bodies along with the passage.

“And I’m Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, but you can just call me Lafayette. I can play practically anything with keys, but piano is my home instrument.” Lafayette also stuck out his hand. He had a firm handshake, but was much more refined in his movements.

“Wow! That’s quite a mouthful.” John laughed through another bite of sandwich.

“Maybe you’d be able to say it better without your mouth full.” Alex muttered, sarcastically rolling his eyes. John lightly punched him in the arm.

“Hey, at least he takes his time.” Lafayette remarked, nodding his head toward Hercules, who already finished his sandwich in the short time they were seated. John and Alex broke into laughter, at the expense of a confused Hercules.

“Oh, I almost forgot, my name’s Alexander Hamilton, I play violin—“ Lafayette held up a finger and spoke.

“Oh believe me, we already know.” Hercules chuckled.

“—And this is John, he plays clarinet.” John leaned forward to see everyone, waving and smiling, mouth closed this time. Lafayette and Hercules waved back.

Everyone continued to chatter while they ate lunch, slowly but surely getting to know one another. After the lunch break ended and Washington called everyone back into the music hall, they picked up where they left off and began to really dig into the Mendelssohn.

Alexander, during a section where only the orchestra was involved, would sometimes look around at his newly-found friends while they rehearsed in disbelief. He was only a day into his life in the Philharmonic, yet he had already made multiple friends and connections. Smiling, he lifted up his violin and let the music draw him inward again.


	2. Op. 1, No. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute bubs being cute. I love 'em.

“Hey Hamilton, are you coming or what?” Alexander looked up from fidgeting with his violin case to see his three new friends walking out into the city together, John glancing back at him in question. Rehearsal had just ended, and Alexander couldn’t get his music off of his mind: Was he good enough? Did he really sell it? Was he even any good in comparison to all of the wonderful musicians he was playing with onstage?

“Coming where? What?”

“To the bar, silly. Did you even hear me? We’re celebrating our first rehearsal of the season, it’s literally right down the street.” John stopped, holding the door open as the sounds of the city leaked into the quiet lobby of the music hall. 

Alexander paused. He was going to just head back to his small apartment and practice until he either fell asleep or got a noise complaint from the neighbours. 

Come on, Alex, this is a one-time opportunity, said a voice from somewhere deep inside of him, You’ll never have another “first rehearsal” with these guys ever again. You can practice any other night. Just tag along.

“Okay, sure. What the hell.” Alexander smiled, moving to get the door from John. 

The four friends stepped out onto the pavement. The air was calm and cozy, and the warm lights from the vehicles in the street complemented the purple evening sky. Lafayette, leading the way, stopped at a quaint pub a few blocks away from the music hall. As the door swung open and they stepped into the establishment, it took Alexander a second to get used to the dim lighting. 

They sat down at a booth, milling over the food and drink menus as they waited for the waitress to come over to them. After they took their orders and their drinks came out, they sat in silence, drinking from their glasses and bottles. Alexander cleared his throat.

“So, uh, I hate to be that person, but… how did I sound? On the solo, I mean.”

“’On the solo’—Jesus, Hamilton, what else could you be talking about—“

“Shut up, Lafayette, I’m being serious here. I just felt like I kept messing up, or I’d be slightly off from everyone else, or almost miss a cue, and then come in out of focus and—” Hercules chuckled.

“Alexander, don’t worry about it. It’s only the first rehearsal, you’re fine. Everyone messes up from time to time, that’s why we rehearse in the first place. Just relax and have a drink.” He then leaned back, taking a big swig from his bottle of cheap beer.

“Speaking of drinks,” John said, smiling and raising his glass. “I declare a toast. To a great first rehearsal, and a great rest of the season.” John then looked around at everyone else, as if he expected them to say something too. Hercules picked up the toast.

“To not missing any of my entrances.” John nodded in approval, looking at Lafayette in expectation.

“To not having a solo until the spring.” Hercules laughed. John glanced over at Alex.

“To new friends, new experiences, and new beginnings.” John smiled at Alexander, and something made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the slightly tipsy look on his face, or the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at him, or maybe it was just the alcohol making its way into his system. Probably the last one.

“Cheers!” They all clinked drinks, then took a swig of whatever was in their hand.

They sat and talked for a long time, John ordered the largest plate of French fries Alexander had ever seen, and they somehow finished off the whole plate. After a long evening of chit-chat and laughter, the four friends stumbled out of the bar and into the street, pretty drunk minus Lafayette, who was only a little tipsy from the glass of champagne he had. Alexander gasped.

“Wow! Guys, it’s dark outside!” He looked at the sky and then back at his friends in disbelief. Lafayette laughed.

“No duh Hamilton, it’s almost midnight.” Alexander drunkenly swung his arm up, pointing at him.

“You, sir, are not even a little drunk. You only had a glass of champagne, so shut up,” He said, slurring his s’s. Lafayette retorted, and they kept walking and talking down the street until they came to an intersection a few blocks down.

“Oh, Laf and I are this way,” Hercules pointed down the left. John and Alexander looked at each other.

“Which way are you?” John asked Alexander.

“Right. I think.”

“Okay, I’ll walk you home. I’m right too. G’night, guys!” John waved at Lafayette and Hercules as they turned left and crossed the street. Alexander and John turned a sharp right and continued down the sidewalk.

"I don't need to be walked home." Alexander said once they were out of earshot, pouting.

"Yes you do," John smiled.

“Funny, how you and I are both going this way,” Alexander giggled. “That’s so funny.”

“What, Alexander, you're not making any sense. You’re drunk. And did you just giggle?” John looked over at Alexander in amusement.

“Yes. And why aren’t you drunk? You drank too.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a hopeless lightweight, unlike you…”

“Fuck you, John.” John laughed and Alexander sighed, looking up. The sky was overcast and still fairly light from all of the artificial light from the city's never-ending life. “You can’t see the stars here.”

“Well no duh, Alexander, we’re in New York City, the most heavily populated city in the US. No shit you can’t see the stars.”

“Well,” Alexander’s speech was interrupted by a hiccup. “I wanted to see them.”

“Well,” John paused to mimic Alexander’s speech patterns. “Too bad.”

“… Fuck you, John.” Alexander mumbled. John laughed again, a little harder this time. “Oh!” Alexander exclaimed. “We’re here. I live here.” He stopped in front of a set of cheap apartments.

“Bye, John! Goodnight, world!” He turned to go into his apartment complex, but instead walked right into the front door, slamming his head into the wood. John broke into laughter, laughing even harder after Alexander muttered “What the fuck?” in frustration, rubbing his forehead.

“… I should probably walk you to your apartment, c’mon.” John said after his laughter began to die down. Alexander nodded in agreeance, not bothering to argue this time, and John stuck out his arm for him to lean on as he walked him into the building and over to the elevator.

“Oh yeah, the elevator doesn’t work. It’s busted, or something.” Alexander mumbled, still rubbing his forehead as John attempted to push the up button.

“Fuckin’ shit…" He took a deep breath and groaned. "Okay, we can do this,” John assured himself as he looked past an incredibly drunk Alexander and over to the stairs. “What floor do you live on?”

“Four.” Another groan from John.

“Okay, let’s go.” He guided Alexander over to the stairs, and after many breaks and complaints (all from Alexander, of course), they finally made it to the top of the staircase and over to his apartment. 403. John took in his surroundings while Alexander fiddled with his keys. The hallway smelled like old cigarette smoke (it was probably embedded in the threads of the carpet) and the people in the apartment nextdoor were undoubtedly arguing in what sounded like Czech. These apartments definitely couldn’t have been a first choice.

“We’re in!” Alexander shouted as the door finally gave way and he stumbled into his apartment and quickly flipped on the light switch. John followed him in, closing the door and locking it behind him, partially out of consideration and partially out of fear that someone would come in and try to mug Alexander while he was asleep. “Welcome to my humble abode!”

John looked around as Alexander set down his violin case on the wood-paneled floor and stretched out. There was a small kitchen off to his left, and there were a series of sticky notes scattered sparingly on the walls, each covered in illegible scrawl.

“Shit,” Alexander exclaimed as he ran over to the coffee machine, which he had left on, quickly turning it off. He giggled, sinking down to sit on the kitchen floor. John looked over when he heard the giggling, and was surprised to see that Alexander wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. His heart thudded in fear.

“Alexander? Alexander, where did you go?” His voice began to trail off in worry as he walked over to the kitchen. He jumped when Alexander reached out and grabbed his ankle, giggling again.

“Alexander! What the actual fuck are you doing?” Alexander shushed him, patting the spot next to him on the floor. John questioningly sunk down until he was seated next to the man, tilting his head back and sighing until he felt the back of his head thud against the kitchen cabinet. He turned to look at Alexander and smiled when he saw him smiling back at him, obviously drunk.

“You can call me Alex, you know.”

“Okay Alex, well you’re drunk and you need to go to bed, not sit on the kitchen floor.”

“Okay Officer Laurens, I love a man in uniform just as much as the next person, but I didn’t think I’d be dealing with the drunk police tonight.” John sighed, visibly relaxing as he briefly closed his eyes and then looked up at the ceiling.

“You’re hopeless, Alexander.” Alexander looked at John, and really appreciated him for a second. His hair was frizzy from the humidity and his ponytail was beginning to loosen up. He had a content smile on his face, and his lips were plump and pink, just a little rosier than his cheeks. Freckles dusted his tanned skin, and his hazel eyes were glazed over with happiness. What was he thinking of? Alexander wanted to get into his head, he wanted to know him, to understand him. John turned at Alexander’s unnatural silence, and was surprised to catch him staring at him.

This was usually when Alexander turned around, embarrassed, and acted like he just happened to be looking at him in that moment; but he instead locked eyes with the man, the alcohol taking control of his rationality. They sat there for a while, just staring into eachother’s eyes, both of their minds running wild. John then cleared his throat, breaking some kind of barrier that had formed in the silence.

“Well, um, I better get going, it’s getting late.” Alexander could feel all of the blood rush to his face once reality kicked back in, and he realized that it had definitely been more than ten minutes of him staring into John’s eyes.

“Y-yeah, you should. Night, John.” John stood up, looking down at Alexander for a second.

“You’re not gonna sleep on the kitchen floor, right?” Alexander laughed.

“Yes, I’m gonna sleep on the kitchen floor.” He was being sarcastic, but he could feel the concern emanating from John. “… I’ll sleep in my own bed, I was just kidding.”

“Haha, okay. That’s good to know. Goodnight, Alex.” He grabbed his clarinet case as he went for the door. “Oh,” He paused as he was stepping out. “Lock the door behind you, okay?” Alex laughed again.

“John, I’m not three. I know what to do. Now go home and get a good night’s sleep. No rehearsal until next week!” John grinned.

“Yeah, see you then! G’night.” He closed the door, smiling when he heard the click of the lock from inside the apartment. He stopped once he was outside, leaning against the door and sinking down to the ground.

What the fuck was that about, John? His inner monologue was going off again, like it always did in these kinds of situations. His heart was beating a mile a minute back there on that dirty kitchen floor in that small apartment, he could’ve sworn something else was going to happen. Who was this guy from the Caribbean, and how was he already leaking his way into his heart?

This is just another one of those guys, someone who seems kind and then proves to be a jackass who only wants you for your body. Don’t get fooled again, John. Don’t be stupid.

He knew it was nothing. He knew it would pass. He simply had to act like nothing was different, like his feelings didn’t exist. They would go away with time. He stood up, brushing off his pants and walking over to the staircase. After he finally got to the ground floor and exited the apartment complex, he went into the underground subway station by Alexander’s apartment and hopped onto the nearest ride to his own apartment, which was in upper Manhattan. It was peaceful there. He thought of those green eyes the whole ride home.


End file.
